Title: Wild Things

Author: Kate of Kintail

Fandom: Harry Potter

Rating: R/NC-17

Pairing: Harry/Neville

Disclaimer: The characters and world are not mine, I tell you! So I don’t get money or fame or any of that stuff, I promise!

Summary: Injuries abound as Harry and Neville clean out the Hogwarts storeroom. Injuries that must be taken care of and favors that must be repaid.

Notes: You decide why they’re there. Could be a detention, could be they returned in the summer after graduation to help out. Could be one of them’s working at Hogwarts. Pick whatever you like

Wild Things

“Ow…” The sound escaped his lips without his meaning for it to. He winced, wishing he could take it back. Harry Potter never complained of pain. Not like this. Even when his scar was searing or his arm had been cut open or he had to have his bones regrown. He never complained. He never let his hurt show. He only said something about it when it was something that needed to be fixed and he could not do so himself. It was a trait he’d learned growing up with the Durselys, however, not because of all the harmful situations he got himself into. His aunt and uncle never liked to see him shed tears when he should be doing something useful like fixing dinner. They didn’t care how much he was hurting as long as he pulled his own weight and didn’t bother them. So Harry learned to bear the pain and suffer quietly. He would shut himself up in his cupboard when it got too bad, curling up and sleeping until it went away.

“What’s wrong, Har… oh,” Neville spotted the injury at once. Harry’s robe had been torn open and there was a large gash across one shin. It was bleeding down his leg now, the stain hidden by his dark black socks but there just the same. Neville, not exactly quick on his feet, nonetheless crossed the storeroom as quickly as possible, smacking his arm on one box and tripping over a rake but catching himself before he actually fell. He grabbed onto Harry’s arm and eased him down onto the floor.

“It’s nothing,” Harry said, shaking his head. “I can manage. It doesn’t hurt any more.” But when he went to stand up, he fell back down again. A look of horror passed over his face. “My leg’s gone numb,” he realized. And not only could he not feel his leg where it was injured, but nor could he feel his thigh or move his foot. The numbness was slowly coming over his whole leg, creeping up to his hip.

“It’s all right,” Neville said, chewing on his bottom lip a little. Harry’s face mirrored the worry. Immediately Neville toughened up. He met Harry’s green eyes with his own, holding them fast. “It will be all right,” he said calmly, reassuringly.

Harry paused, then gave an understanding nod. Meanwhile, Neville ripped the bottom part of Harry’s robes off starting with where it was already torn. Neville folded it and wrapped it around the cut as many times as the fabric would go. Then he tied it off tightly. “Hold your hand here,” Neville instructed, holding the cloth against the wound to help hold back the bleeding with a bit more pressure.

Then Neville stood and walked over to the row of plants in the rectangular planter. “Neville… be careful,” Harry said, turning it his, watching him. “It’s fast, whatever it is.” He looked down at his bloody leg. Something had lashed out of that box. He had jumped back, but it hit his leg before pulling back, retreating into the box. Neville looked down suspiciously, and then plunged his hands down inside. Harry gasped, sure Neville’s hands would come out bleeding. But they didn’t. Instead they came out, strangling a long, sharp-looking spikey, pod. It was thick, and covered in blood at the tip. Neville was wringing it hard until green ooze started to seep out. Then the whole thing turned to ooze in his hand and he pitched it into the trash bin at once.

Immediately the numbness in Harry’s leg left, replaced by the original stabbing pain. He winced, holding his hand harder against the wound. Neville, wiping his hands off on his robes, headed back over bending back down. “You all right? Can you feel your leg now? Can you try to move your foot for me?”

Harry nodded, raising his leg and moving his foot up and down as Neville nodded approvingly. Neville looked suddenly very relieved. “Hurts again,” Harry whispered, feeling some odd sort of need to complain to Neville, who was being so helpful about the injury. And then, looking cautiously over at the planter, “What in the world was that thing?”

“That was a wild South American Hubulous Terramax,” Neville informed him. “I’ll explain in a moment. Let me get you fixed up first.” He ripped his own robes this time, tearing off a thin, long piece at the hem and another oddly shaped one. Then he took out his pocket handkerchief. Tenderly he moved Harry’s hand away and quickly unwrapped the original make-shift bandage. He used the randomly shaped piece to wipe away the blood around Harry’s wound and down his leg. Clear of blood for a moment, Neville could see the small gash. It looked jagged but not even as deep as he had initially suspected. In fact, the bleeding from it had already slowed considerably. Feeling even more relief at this, he pressed the clean handkerchief to the wound and wrapped the long piece of fabric around Harry’s leg several times to tie it there. “It’s looking all right. It’ll be healed in no time, especially if I can find some Andori vines. The bandages aren’t too tight?” he asked cautiously, looking from it up to Harry.

Harry shook his head. It still hurt terribly, but Neville seemed to think it wasn’t bad and he trusted Neville’s opinions when it came to these things. “So what was that South American whatchamacallit thing?”

“Hubulous Terramax,” Neville repeated. “It lives in the rain forest, normally, and survives on the strength of animals or people if it can get them. It’s usually very small, but has a tongue like a frog’s. It just whips its tongue out and makes a cut,” Harry was all too familiar with that part, and he felt a bit uncomfortable to hear Neville describe it as such. “And then, from a distance of up to a mile, it can suck the strength right out of you once it formed that connection. Unless, of course, it’s killed. It’s a very deadly plant, but its only weapon is its tongue. If you can grab it on one side and keep it from using it, you can kill it in a flash. And that stops the connection.”

Harry looked over at the trash bin warily. He was sure it must be dead then if his leg was not numb… but didn’t really want to find out the hard way. Cleaning out the Hogwarts storeroom was more dangerous than waging war on Number 12 Grimmauld Place had been. The storeroom was used mostly for grounds-keeping and Herbology equipment. Seemingly empty planting boxes and pots were everywhere amidst the array of tools and dirt.

“People used the plants as weapons,” Neville continued to explain. “That’s why they were outlawed. I can’t imagine how we came to have one here. Even for study at N.E.W.T.S. level that plant is much too dangerous a weapon. A very effective one, too. You could throw them at your enemies and they rarely stood a chance. I heard of one man who—”

“Neville?” choked Harry, swallowing hard and giving a cough. He regretted now even asking. “Could you maybe tell me later? I’m still a bit…”

Looking altogether overly sympathetic, Neville nodded at once. He leaned forward and kissed Harry’s forehead softly. “Of course, I’m sorry. But you’ll be fine now.” The remembrance of something showed on his face, and he stood up at once to search around. “Andori vines,” Neville muttered, as he searched.

“What do the look like?” asked Harry, still on the floor. He looked around, too, from his spot.

Neville squatted down, then crawled between two very large wooden crates. He was forced to move slowly, as it was a tight fit. He called back, “They’re a dull green color, and very thin. Their oils contain a healing quality that will nullify the pain from your injury.”

Anxious for something so certain to help, Harry looked around. But the storeroom was dark and dirty. Everything looked dull and dank to him. And he was almost positive he would not be able to tell an Andori vine from Kudzu.

Neville’s triumphant cry announced his success as he backed out of the narrow space. “They like the dark,” he explained. “It’s a common assumption that boggarts eat them, but some people say boggarts will eat just about anything.”

Harry smiled. He wondered why Neville had ever had trouble in classes. He seemed to know everything today. Harry supposed that as long as there was a plant connection to it, Neville couldn’t fail. The young man seemed to just absorb the information like plants did light. Or at least most plants. Apparently not Andori vines. Or anything else that had stayed alive in this dark storeroom.

Neville had his left hand held out, palm up, a few drop of orange oil in his palm. Kneeling down on the floor, he got as close to Harry as possible. He undid the bandage quickly with his other hand, and Harry’s help. With another piece of fabric ripped from his robes, again he wiped away the access blood. Then he pressed his hand gently to the wound. He rubbed the oil in with a gentle touch, his hand moving in slow circles against the cut.

At first, the sensation stung, and Harry took in a sharp breath, preparing himself for more. But then he felt a soothing heat spread over the area and into his leg. He closed his eyes, savoring the quick relief. “Amazing,” he muttered.

With a smile, and glad to be of help, Neville looked up at Harry. His face, which had showed his worry clearly the whole time even though he had been trying to control that emotion, now looked calm. Calmer and more peaceful than Neville had seen him look in years. Certainly much more than Neville had expected him to look given the difficulty and immensity of the chore of cleaning out the storeroom. Unable to resist, Neville lifted himself up, still kneeling just no longer resting on his lower legs. He gave Harry a strong kiss. It took Harry off guard, and he opened his eyes at once. But then he shut them again, smiling and kissing back. Pressure increased, and soon the kiss involved tongues and hot, heavy breaths. They sat on the storeroom floor snogging until Harry felt a sensation against his leg and looked down.

A small trickle of blood was on his lower leg. The problem was, it was not from his own cut but from Neville’s. “Neville!” Harry exclaimed, grabbing the young man’s pudgy arm and inspecting it. “Bloody Hell! You’re hurt, too!” The skin on his arm had been scraped rough, and in one part so much that it shed a few drops of blood when Neville had it at a certain angle.

“I just scraped it on the crate when I was trying to crawl back out using just one arm,” Neville explained with a shrug. “I doesn’t even hurt.” Whether it hurt or not was not the point.

Harry went immediately to his robes and ripped a long piece off, wrapping it and typing it around Neville’s arm. “There,” he said with a definitive nod. “Now we’re even. Er…” He shook his head, thinking of the energy-sucking plant Neville had squeezed to death in his honor. Neville, who went out of his way to pamper plants, not kill them. Neville, who probably would have preferred studying such a rare and important plant, had killed it instead. “Well, not exactly even. But starting to get there.”

Neville smiled and nodded. “You probably shouldn’t put your weight on your leg for another half hour or so,” he said. “Give it time to heal before you try to walk on it.” Neville removed his hand and tied the makeshift bandage back around the cut. “Is it feeling better? Did the oil help?”

“Oh, immensely,” Harry told him. Now there was just the matter of what to do for half an hour’s time while staying on the floor. He supposed he could use his want to levitate things into their proper places, or at least out of the way of foot traffic. But they’d both agreed early into the task that using magic in such a small space with so many unknown magical things around was a bit dodgy. Neville could of course go on cleaning with just a hurt arm, but Harry didn’t think it was fair to make Neville clean while Harry rested. There was, in Harry’s estimation, only one thing left to do.

“So in the meantime what do you want to…” Neville started, apparently on the same train of thought as Harry. But his words died away as he saw the look in Harry’s eyes. Not worry. Not relief. Not even pleasure. It was a look Neville knew intimately: lust. Neville grinned widely as he looked back at Harry, robes ripped and torn.

Gathering from his smile that Neville understood and agreed, Harry eagerly leaned forward, his weight resting on his knee, but not his lower leg where the cut resided. He grabbed Neville by the collar and pulled him close for a powerful kiss. His breaths were hot from his nostrils as they kissed.

Alternatively, Neville breathed through his mouth whenever he could, when Harry’s mouth moved back for their tongues to play, or when he moved his head. After a while, he could not catch his breath with the kisses interfering, and began moving his kisses down Harry’s face and neck so he could breathe whenever he needed. His hands groped Harry, pulling at the robes with their torn and frayed bottoms. He liked them ripped, preferred them that way now. His hand would occasionally touch thigh when they were at this length. The only thing he would have preferred was for them to be more ripped. But that was easily dealt with. His hands stopped grabbing and started pulling, tearing. He ripped off a piece from the bottom, seeing and feeling Harry’s cock as a reward for this. But they did not stop there. They made a tear up the seam in the front, splitting the robes right in two. Neville found Harry’s chest now, with Harry’s whole front bare before him.

Neville continued his kisses, across the bare shoulders, then down the chest. As his tongue lapped at a nipple, he felt Harry tearing at his own robes. It was hard to kiss as he wanted in this position, with his body bent and his face at Harry’s pecks, and still allow Harry free range of motion. So he remained still as he let Harry rip and pull his robe apart. Harry slipped out of what remained of his robes quickly thereafter, and Neville immediately returned to kissing. Across his chest, from one nipple to the other, then down the chest. Down to the stomach, to the naval. Then down to the tuft of rough hair that he nuzzled his face into affectionately. Neville grinned widely as he ran his tongue down the length of Harry’s now hard shaft, pausing at the head to give it a tender, wet kiss.

At this, Harry shuddered and grabbed Neville’s shoulders, pushing him back. “No!” Harry gasped, clearly pleased but resistant. “No, you’ve taken care of me so much already today,” he said, gazing into Neville’s soft eyes. “I want to repay you.” He grinned mischievously. “It’s only fair.” He ran his hands down Neville’s sides, then leaned forward with his elbows on the floor and his head at Neville’s crotch.

“Only… ah… fair… ohhhh…” Neville muttered, looking down as the wild, unruly black hair bobbed in front of him. Harry repeated Neville’s actions there completely. His wet tongue ran down Neville’s cock, then kissed the end. Neville’s cock was slightly shorter than Harry’s, but made up for it in girth. Harry’s mouth fit around it with a little difficulty, but once there felt magical. Harry’s head slid back and forth around Neville’s cock, in a slow but steady rhythm. Neville panted along, adjusting at once to the pattern. After every five or so times, Harry would pull back further and press his tongue against the dimple of Neville’s penis. Every time he did this, Neville gave a groan of pleasure and grinned madly. Then Harry continued on taking Neville in his mouth, holding the base of the shaft to keep it in place.

After a while, Neville could not help but rock his hips in time with it. He put his hands on Harry’s shoulders to steady himself and help keep the rhythm. Harry’s sucking became more intense by the minute, and Neville began thrusting harder and harder. Both were egged on by instincts and their mutual pleasure expressed in grunts and moans and gasps.

“H-H-Harry?” he gasped, sounding almost as though he were an uncertain first year again when really he had never been so certain in all his life. His grip tightened on Harry’s shoulders, nails digging in almost to the point of drawing blood. “Gonna… oh… gonna-gonna come if you don’t…” He took in an especially sharp breath. “No!” he cried. “Please don’t!” Harry slowed. Neville exhaled. “Want to… feel you in… ohhhh… in me,” he said. “Please H-Harry… want you… in me… oh Merlin!” Harry had swirled his tongue teasingly around the head of Neville’s cock in answer that he was stopping but not without a few final touches. These included making Neville gasp as Harry tickled then tugged at his balls, and then gasping again when Harry’s tongue darted down to lick them. Finally, Harry pulled back completely, fighting for breath. Neville groaned to find the sensation suddenly halted, though he had asked for it and was glad he had not come. He wanted Harry. He wanted to wait for Harry.

Harry ran the back of his hand over his mouth, drying it. Neville giggled and turned around, scooting forward a bit to find a trunk of some sort. It was the perfect height to lean into. He crossed his arms on top of it and bent forward into them. Harry slid up behind. His hands were soft and tender as they caressed Neville’s shoulders and upper arms. Then Harry gently kissed the piece of robe that covered Neville’s scrape, as though kissing it better. Neville giggled at this as well. “Take me, Harry.” Neville whispered, turning his head back and letting Harry kiss him on the mouth one last time. “Take me hard.”

Harry did as he was told. The point was to make Neville happy, after all. “Neville?” he whispered, pressing his bare chest into Neville’s back which also meant rubbing his erection against Neville’s arse. Neville groaned deeply in pleasure. “Neville?” Harry whispered again, his mouth just behind Neville’s ear, the rest of his face buried in the wisps of dirty blond hair. Neville gave a weak nod. “That plant, the Andori vine, is it safe to use when it’s not on an injury? I mean… would there be a problem for using it… on other places… for other things?”

Neville tensed at the idea. “It’s safe,” he whispered back. “It’s perfectly safe. Just pinch one of the leaves on the vine and squeeze out the oil.” Harry’s hand slid up Neville’s side then slid down his arm. Harry directed Neville’s arm to go down off the top of the trunk. Neville tried to pretend he wasn’t distracted. “When the vine starts shaking, it’s had enough and you should stop or you’ll damage it.” With his arm against Neville’s, matching it, Harry directed Neville’s hand to his cock. Neville sighed and, with Harry’s prodding, began to rub himself. “Don’t take too long,” Neville murmured. Harry promised with a kiss to the cheek.

Submitting to Neville’s knowledge in the area, in order to make Neville submit to him, Harry crawled over to the area where Neville had found the vine. He returned in no time, slick and dripping. The oil made his whole cock feel warm and soothed, and sort of fuzzy. It was a fantastic feeling, but not as fantastic as when he came up behind and slid his dick into Neville.

On Neville’s side, the oil was like a soft cushion, and the normal slight discomfort of having Harry’s large cock inside him was completely gone. “Ohhhh Harry…” Neville moaned, throwing his head back. Harry’s hand reached forward and took over for Neville’s. It wrapped around Neville’s cock and began pumping in synch with his own pumps from behind. It was a skill learned after quite a lot of practice, and one Neville was more than glad they had practiced. Harry’s other arm gripped Neville’s side, hand on shoulder. And Harry’s face buried itself in the mass of hair in front of him, breathing hot breaths through the hair. Strands stuck to his lips, but he cared not. He continued to push himself in and pull back out, his hips working hard, but his leg not at all in pain from the motion.

Harry’s breathing grew more erratic, and Neville began to tense as well, “Go for it…” Neville pleaded softly. Harry obeyed the command. With a last, powerful thrust forward, he exploded inside Neville. The heat of the oil intensified it, making Harry surge with pleasure.

He gave himself a moment to breathe when it was all over, then pulled back and out of Neville only to find that Neville had not yet come. He was close, though. So close that he only had seconds, if that. Harry’s hand, which had paused and squeezed during his own orgasm and which was still warm from the oil he’d rubbed into his cock, flew up and down Neville’s cock now in a blur. He crawled forward, lying down on his side, and quickly taking Neville back in his mouth. The sensation of being enveloped like this pushed Neville over the edge. With a sense of intense urgency, he grabbed Harry’s hair in one hand to direct it back and forth faster. He came with a deep groan of Harry’s name in the back of his throat. And Harry’s throat relaxed to take in as much of Neville as he could.

Finally, Neville slumped forward, feeling quite exhausted but happily so. His hand released Harry’s hair slowly, as though his hand had clenched there and did not want to let go. He pulled it back, straightening his fingers stiffly. Then he drew them through Harry’s hair with a soothing stroke. From the floor, Harry looked up, smiling. Even after being pleasured by Harry, Neville was still caring for him. Harry closed his eyes to the sensation, however. It was enjoyable. It was right. It was the natural order of things.

Harry and Neville returned to the castle that evening in shaggy robes. They had repaired the rips in their robes with a spell or two, but there was no returning the used pieces back to them. So when, in tatters, they entered the Hospital Wing before dinner, Madam Pomfrey was most shocked at their appearance. She set to work at once to find clean bandages for them. “Take a cot, each of you. And sit still so you don’t injure yourself further!” She sighed as she took a small bottle of antiseptic from the shelf above and gathered various bandages onto a tray. “I’ve been telling Albus for years that the storeroom should just be taken down and replaced completely. Knew it was dangerous. Wild things in there that shouldn’t be there…”

The young men exchanged amused looks. Neville eyed the woman, whose back was to them both, and then sprang off his cot to give Harry a kiss. “Wild things indeed,” he chuckled.

Harry grinned back. “What do you say we go back and finish cleaning tonight?” Harry suggested in a whisper. Neville’s eyes glowed happily and he had time for a single nod before hopping back down onto the cot beside Harry as though he’d been there the whole time.

Madam Pomfrey started with Harry’s injury, removing the pieces of robe to look at it as Harry and Neville explained what had happened and that they’d put oil on it. She seemed pleased at this treatment, but poured a bit of antiseptic on a cloth anyway. When she touched it to Harry’s cut, he gave an involuntary “Ow…” Neville reached over from the other cot and grabbed Harry’s hand. He squeezed it reassuringly. Harry squeezed back.